


alternative responses to "i love you"

by Princess_Booplesnoot



Series: date a nerd, freak a geek [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Doombots, Drunk Thor (Marvel), Everyone Is Poly Because Avengers, Human Disaster Clint Barton, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Multi, Peter Parker is a Mess, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warning: Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:20:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Booplesnoot/pseuds/Princess_Booplesnoot
Summary: I saw a picture on the internet and used it as a prompt to make a series of ficlets featuring an OFC and poly!Avengers. Seriously, that's it. There's even no porn.
Relationships: Avengers Team/Original Female Character(s), Bruce Banner/Original Female Character(s), Clint Barton/Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s), Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Thor (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Tony Stark/Original Female Character(s)
Series: date a nerd, freak a geek [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653058
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	alternative responses to "i love you"

**Author's Note:**

> I have to get this out there. I'm as white as they come but somehow I imagine the main character being a woman of color with beautiful, curly natural hair.
> 
> [This is the picture that inspired this fic.](https://imgur.com/a/sEd5dzD)

Avengers met her. She was quiet, a little bit bland even, mousy. A frumpy Black Sabbath t-shirt from Hot Topic and worn skinny skinny jeans seldom did any justice to her curves; she didn’t feel the need to use her womanly attributes as a social crutch even when she had all the rights and reasons to do so.

Each of them introduced themselves one by one, some broadly, some shyly and the roomful of people were quick to build rapport amongst themselves and the newcomers.

“Ally from tech support,” she had said, taking one look at Tony’s visage full of skepticism.

“What is it exactly that you do, short stuff?” He asked her, smirking.

The disbelief was written plainly on him, openly heard in the engineer’s patronising tone. Ally wasn’t surprised: disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised. Being a young woman in a male dominated field, she had encounters like that on the daily.

“I’m the guy Captain Rogers goes to when you lot spam him with rare memes. I’m the guy who’s fixing the computers of the whole 28th floor, since you appointed them to sort all your fanmail and the hordes of Trojans that come with it.” Ally paused for the effect, eyeing each Avenger with quiet judgement. “I make sure your browser history stays private and out of SHIELD’s paws.”

The captain in question looked away briefly, as did a few others. The things Ally had seen, couldn’t be unseen. Especially for the supersoldier and Asgardian duos. God bless Google as well as - fuck you, Google.

Clint Barton caught her eyes, striding over with a swagger and shaking her hand firmly. The man had hearts for eyes, making Ally warily squirm.

“I love you,” his tone was laced with devotion. Ally’s hand was about to fall off from the vigorous shake Barton was giving her; she was pretty sure he was a true nerd, of the socially awkward variety and she happened to be _that_ type, geeky, red hair, glasses. She got herself a fanboy.

“Who doesn’t?” Smug smile on her face, Ally surveyed the superhero group turning various shades of pink when her words sank in.

* * *

“Uh, Ally?”

“Yes, Captain?” The girl in question ceased the tapping on her keyboard and let her bleary, tired eyes rest on Rogers’ towering form.

“It’s Steve,” he corrected her gently, coming to recline against the side of her desk. “I was wondering if you have a bit of time to spare.” He sheepishly rubbed his nape, a soft blush dusting his cheeks, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“What’s up, Steve?” Her interest piqued. Rogers usually avoided bothering her during work time and spaced his questions during lunch time or worst case, half an hour before she was scheduled to finish.

“I, uh, I seem to have trouble with my computer. It’s been acting strange since last week and there are, uh, advertisements and…”

Ally raised a hand to silence him, knowing where this was going. She had gone through the same thing with her own brother who was five years her junior. Sudden program freezing, weird pop-ups, hot naked ladies wanting to chat… “Bring it over, I’ll see what I can do. I’ll leave it at the front desk when I’m done, you can pick it up in the morning.”

Ally was a professional who could deal with the pesky viruses in twenty, thirty minutes tops. Also she was a human being, she didn’t lack sympathy and empathy: wishing to save him the embarrassment of having _the talk_ face to face, she opted for leaving the device with further instructions on the front desk.

It was awkward explaining the proper way to watch porn to a grown man who grew up in the thirties. The fact that he was smoking hot and she’d ride the shit out of him if she could, well, that wasn’t helping either.

_… Use the incognito mode. Never download anything from sites you don’t trust & remember that all these ads are fake. There’s Tinder if you’re looking to meet someone, Grindr if you’re looking to meet specifically men and FetLife if you’re looking for something very particular, something you may have seen in a video. Wrap it before you tap it, toodles! ;)_

Ally finished tapping the message in the notepad app which she left open - that would be the first thing he’ll see upon opening his laptop. As promised, she gave it to the concierge downstairs after clocking out, heading straight for the nearest bar.

Ally’s phone chimed an incoming text message just the time she downed her second whiskey in three large gulps. God, she’d needed that drink today - if she could judge a man by his browsing history, Steve Rogers was a curious horndog if she’d ever met one.

The text was from him, of course. The three words made her drunkenly giggle.

“I❤️U”.

“I know 😂” Ally sent back, feeling snarky. The evening just got that much better and the daily grind a bit more bearable.

* * *

Another year gone by.

One more year of long hours, working for Tony Stark sure had it’s perks - perfect health insurance, prime access to the newest tech and software on the market, bonus paychecks, carpool, catering and free coffee - quality shit, not the overly sugary Starbucks white-girl-lattes. The perks came at a price of overtime, frequent evenings behind her desk and interruptions on weekends, having to carry the laptop around like some sort of a guide dog…

Ally had gotten the job a week after her birthday, and now it was time to celebrate again. The lifestyle she led was quite nomadic which was only partially her choice. An introvert through and through, she preferred the solitude of her studio apartment to noisy pubs and clubs, picking a good World of Warcraft raid over a party in midtown.

Being a boyish, socially awkward IT specialist didn’t help. Manhattan wasn’t the place for her to find friends because of the crowd the fairly expensive neighborhood attracted: journalists, financial sharks and lawyers. The charismatic sort of them quickly lost interest in the placid, reclusive woman when it became clear she wouldn’t participate in a party crashing heist.

Ally felt comfortable in her work-home-work-home routine. She built a solid team at Stark Industries, hand-picking the most amicable and skilled people to work on the Avengers’ private matters. A good tech support guy was as important as a good doctor these days with everything being computerized and automatised.

So, she built a good rapport with the team. She wouldn’t call them her friends - Ally had been invited to a couple of team dinners but it never went further than that, it was nothing more than a polite gesture and a way to discreetly check her trustworthiness. Not minding it one bit, the woman genuinely enjoyed the banter and the feeling of community that surrounded the team. Fighting side by side, they created a family of sorts. A family of misfits, as clichè as that sounded.

Rubbing her eyes, spying the clock on the wall, Ally decided she could use the opportunity to head out early that day. It was her birthday after all and as there were no pressing matters in need of attendance, the woman figured out she could use a glass of wine or three. Maybe a slice of triple chocolate cake wouldn’t hurt either.

Having put her backpack on her shoulders, Ally opened the door to her office only to run into something rock solid- “FUCK!” She yelled, startled.

James Barnes stood there, dressed in a skin tight Henley, a motorcycle helmet in hand.

“What the fuck, you can’t just sneak up on people like that!” In her shock, Ally didn’t realize she was yelling at the usually broody supersoldier, still too preoccupied rubbing her bruised forehead.

“Sorry, doll,” he grinned, “Seeing as it’s your birthday, I was going to give you a ride home. A little birdie told me you like motorcycles and my Harley needs to be taken out for a spin. You up for it?” He handed her the helmet, already knowing what her response would be.

Damn the smug bastard. Ally glared at him with as much hurt and indignation as she could muster, childish petulance seeping into her at Barnes’ rude entrance.

“Aw doll, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, I love you,” he grinned even wider, seemingly enjoying her playing hard-to-get and patting the offended forehead with his flesh hand whilst the metal one was still extended, holding the headpiece.

He looked ridiculous. “Thanks,” with a final glare, Ally sauntered towards the elevator, Barnes following her like an excited puppy.

* * *

“Peter’s got a girlfriend, guys!” This was the third time Clint yelled it, finally getting everybody’s attention: whatever conversation was going on at the dinner table immediately stilled.

“Her name is Michelle, she’s from his school and she is very cute,” Wanda supplied, catching Natasha’s speculative looks.

Romanoff wouldn’t admit it over torture but Peter was kind of her son. She cared a lot for the young superhero, being careful to keep her mothering covert and inconspicuous. In Ally’s opinion, Romanoff failed spectacularly.

“Stop it, guys, seriously!” The teen boy groaned, desperately hiding his burning face behind hands.

“Ah, the time of young love and first amorous conquests…” Thor sighed, evidently lost somewhere in the bottomless pit of his memory. “I’ll tell you, brother Peter, me and Loki wasted no time chasing maids all over the palace!”

It was Loki’s time to groan and roll his eyes. The younger Asgardian was a prime specimen on Earth and what recognition and admiration he had lacked in Asgard, he made up for it on Midgard. Out of all the team, his fangirls (and boys) were the most devoted.

And most rabid, Ally would say, as she routinely had to witness first hand what kind of debauchery came into the Trickster’s fanmail - her team had a “Letter of the Week” pool, where all of them anonymously submitted the filthiest, weirdest thing a fan had written and voted for the first place, together, in a similar anonymous way. Sometimes even Clint Barton joined in. Loki’s letters won nine out of ten times and usually by a wide margin.

“I’ll let it be known, _brother_ , that whilst _you_ chased the maids, ladies came to _me_.” Loki smirked smugly, using his utensils in such a regal way, it was strangely appealing to watch him meticulously ravage his dinner into tiny pieces.

Ally couldn’t decide what was the better view: Loki’s small feast or Thor blushing in indignation.

“I had no shortage of willing maidens,” Thor finally articulated his thoughts.

“Merely one-off arrangements.” The trickster scoffed. “It takes a certain amount of skill to satisfy a woman, brother.” Satisfied with Thor’s level of agitation and humiliation, Loki arched an elegant brow at the blonde’s sputtering.

“The ladies were properly sated, I assure you!” The thunderer replied, looking away.

Ally was amused, giving a vague chuckle. Thor was being ruthlessly and masterfully trolled by his brother and she felt a tiny bit bad for the cluelessness of the blonde Asgardian. He could be such a dummy for someone over a thousand years of age. A giant golden space puppy.

A pregnant silence hung over the table, even the chewing sounds uncharacteristically absent.

“I don’t see the problem here, Loki. The solution is quite easy: put the whole man down and ride the dick as you please. Simple.” Ally told, keeping her tone conversational and light. She may be quiet and soft-spoken, not out of shyness though.

A flurry of coughs followed shortly after, the whole table erupting into rambunctious laughter whilst the woman’s face remained impassive, a ghost of a smile tilting the corners of her lips.

Giving Ally an approving look, Natasha asked Tony: “Are you alright?”

“I… Love… You…” Torn between coughing and laughing, his shaking finger pointed in Ally’s general proximity.

“A horrible decision, really,” was the only thing she could say before loosing her cooler-than-you facade and succumbing to a giggling fit along with everyone else.

Tony’s mirth rang harder and louder at the declaration and so did Loki’s. His fond look went unnoticed by the young woman enjoying herself with her friends.

* * *

“We’re hitting the boutiques uptown, get ready. I’ve got Tony’s credit card and stern instructions to get crazy!” Wanda sounded too excited for someone who was about to spend a whole day wandering around and staring at ridiculously expensive pieces of fabric, Ally thought, getting up from her desk with a groan, stretching out the sore muscles in the neck.

She wasn’t a dress type of girl and even less so a _designer_ dress type of gal. Her whole wardrobe consisted of jeans, shorts, band t-shirts and hoodies. Throw in a couple of black slacks and smart blouses and Ally was set for a year without needing to go shopping.

The invitation to one of Tony’s latest charity shidings wasn’t exactly unexpected, it was more that Ally had allowed herself to forget about certain parts - such as dressing up and posing for photos and, Thor forbid, actually _talking to people_.

The look of horror upon Natasha’s face was amusing when Ally had told she’d wear her more formal office attire, the spy cutting off the arguments with a “you’re going to get continuously mistaken for the wait staff”.

Wanda insisted on accompanying (read: chaperoning) Ally’s shopping trip, fully acknowledging that Tony’s bribe in the form of his credit card was going to get the witch a new par of shoes… Or five.

And Wanda does, in fact, go cray cray. Ally’s sure the witch has spent a five-figure sum and they still haven’t found a dress that Ally is comfortable with. Some are too tight, some downright unflattering and the colors are so bland. The season’s fashions don’t go very well with her skin color type - something something spring, one of the sales attendants had said - and the IT guru looks comically out of place in the expensive stores, wearing her faded Nikes and last year’s jeans she got at Target.

“Oh my God, Ally, it can’t be that hard! It’s just a dress you will wear one time and forget about it afterwards!” Even the fashionable Maximoff had gotten annoyed with Ally’s picky attitude.

She makes a face. “My mom said that if I ever decide to dress like a normal person, I would probably wear Vivienne Westwood. Whatever that is.”

Wanda’s face brightens and she grabs Ally by the arm, pulling her into another store that looks like it’s built of glass and gold.

Ally finds something she likes there, and yes, it’s made by Westwood - it’s a pantsuit, a naturl fabric that is light yet not see-through, in a mauve color that compliments her skin tone and makes her hair color pop beautifully. The cleavage is low, very low; they spend another half an hour deliberating how to play off the outfit without coming off as too slutty, finally settling on a fine skin-colored mesh bodysuit under the blazer.

Wanda buys herself three pair of Loboutins and one pair of Manolo Blahniks. Swish-swish goes Tony’s credit card; Ally is silently ripping out her hair, fighting to keep her mouth shut on how an absolutely rigged of a setup she could buy for herself with that kind of money. _Two 4k monitors, crazy fps, two video cards, RGB lights everywhere…_ The IT guru has to discreetly wipe her mouth at the thought.

“I’m not a high heel kind of girl.” Defiance rears it’s head once again when the salesman approaches her with an intention to sell her twice as many shoes as Wanda had bought. Bling, bling, ca-ching, his eyes have dollar signs in them. Before any of women can reply, Wanda thrusts her phone towards his face, a picture of Ally wearing the pantsuit she’d picked out earlier.

The man whistles thoughtfully, then grins. Swaggering into the back room, he brings out a pair of sneakers - Ally’s having to remind herself to breathe when she sees the price tag - and Wanda seems to trust his flamboyant attitude when he states “girl, forget heels, throw the whole 2010s away back in the closet, sneakers are the absolute realness”… And that’s how Ally ends up with a $1500 pair of Gucci shoes that are the most comfortable thing she’s worn EVER despite an unusually thick sole.

The day of the event, Wanda comes over with a make-up bag, puts an unholy amount of concealer on Ally’s raccoon eyes (she’s pretty sure if she closed them, they would stick shut), rummages around her late grandmother’s jewelry box and instructs Ally to put ALL the rings on.

The IT guru is pretty sure her hands are literally Christmas trees with that many gemstones.

Tony fucking Stark takes her by the elbow, kisses her cheek and leads her onto the red carpet, both of them opening the party arm in arm. His presence is the only thing keeping her grounded in such an unnerving atmosphere; her maximum functioning capacity is smiling awkwardly, coldly at the herd of press stationed around the entrance; the billionaire is a natural, he plays the crowd masterfully, diverts their attention from her. He’s a kind man despite the occasional bout of asshole-ness. Ally decides she likes him.

Next morning the picture of them is on the front pages of the internet. Ally is shocked to see it’s her, the woman with head held high and condescending smile, composedly posted on Tony Stark’s arm. Her social media is swarmed with women in her field cheering, congratulating her. Somehow, the media doesn’t pin her as Tony’s new arm candy; in fact, she is properly credited as the lead of his IT department and all her credentials are listed appropriately.

The dumb smile doesn’t leave Ally’s face for the remainder of the day.

Next day the lot of them are having lunch in the cafeteria and it’s Wanda who holds up a fashion magazine, “Women in IT: not a myth” written in bright red letters over a picture of Ally on the red carpet, one of the few where the press managed to catch her alone.

“… Allison’s talents are not limited by academic knowledge: her choice of attire for the Maria Stark foundation bi-annual fundraiser was a provocative head-turner, combining the opulence of high-fashion with the gumption and amenity of modern approach to formality. That is an absolute win for women worldwide who prefer comfort…” Wanda reads aloud, pausing to stare at Ally. “I don’t have to wear stilettos anymore. I love you.” The witch stated in all seriousness.

“Why? You picked literally everything I was wearing…” Ally trailed off, not getting what the fuss was all about. Those were just _clothes_.

* * *

3 in the morning, Ally’s phone rang. She pressed it off in her sleeping, not giving a dang about who it was or why they were calling: sleep was important, almost as important as staying hydrated and fuck anybody who thought otherwise.

Vexatious noises didn’t cease after she’d pressed the silent button once: in her groggy state, the IT guru figured it must be something important. Stifling a yawn, she put the phone to her ear without bothering checking caller ID. “Hello?”

“Allison, I’m terribly sorry to rouse you at this hour…” Loki’s gentle baritone came through her phone, rousing her body into bedgruding alertness. “There’s an urgent matter neither of us are currently able to attend to. Could you do us a favor, darling?”

Ally’s cheeks heated up at the Asgardian’s shameless schmoozing. The Trickster had his ways to be very persuasive when he needed something he couldn’t get.

“What’s going on, Loki?” She asked, ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

“Well, you see, Thor went out drinking and… He took a whole barrel of Asgardian wine with him, presumably to impress the mortals. Somebody called me a moment ago claiming my brother is causing mayhem in his drunken state in a bar not far away from you.” Loki paused, sounding agitated. “I am currently in Sweden with Banner, in fact, most of us are in Europe and I was unable to reach Stark. Would you be a sweetheart and bring Thor home?”

Last sentence was said in such a tone, Ally had to do a double take at what she was getting herself into. Too sickly sweet considering Loki… Being Loki.

“Is he aggressive?” The IT guru voiced her concerns after chewing on her lip in thought.

“By the Norns, no!” Loki sounded somewhat offended. “He’s a very… Happy drunk.” He offered in the way of comfort. “Overly so, perhaps.”

“I’ll do it. Text me the address.” Ally quickly interrupted the concerned-sounding Asgardian before he could make up more extravagant monologues.

“We are very grateful. Truly, thank you, Lady Allison.” The formality was an unpleasant surprise coming from Loki, he’d finally been persuaded enough to call her by the first name a couple of months ago.

Ally found Thor quickly - all she had to do was follow the rambunctious laughter and the sound of crashing glass, a loud screech of “ANOTHER!” followed by a crowd of male cheers.

Somehow she saw exactly what she’d expected: the Thunderer animatedly talking, downing a mug of amber-colored liquid, throwing it to the ground and picking up another mug immediately. People in various stages of pass-out were littered all over the hole-in-the-wall bar but a good ten of them remained standing, surrounding Thor, ears red from the war stories he was telling.

Ally spied the bartender who was looking equal parts amused and horrified, standing behind the counter.

“I’ll be taking him now, bill Tony Stark for any damages that need reimbursement. Here’s the business card, it has all the contact information. Thank you.” She rambled off the rehearsed phrase, giving the paper object to the bartender who finally took on a more relaxed stance as he handed her Thor’s cell phone.

“What to do if the Avengers cause property damages?” was a section in the employee’s handbook, compulsory to memorize. There were guidelines for incidents just like this one. _What even is this world anymore?…_

“C’mon big guy, let’s go home.” Ducking under the men’s arms, she finally got Thor’s attention by wrapping her own arm around his bicep.

“Lady Allison! What a great pleasure to see you on this fine evening!” He slurred, loud enough to just about burst her eardrums.

“It’s morning already.” She remarked with a sigh, gently steering him towards the door, mug of ale still in one hand and a chicken wing in another.

The crowd made vague noises of disappointment but didn’t dare to interrupt the woman with whom Thor became docile, following them and waving good-byes. Some dude even yelled “get lucky!”, or something like that, much to Ally’s dismay. Despite being a literal god, Thor was definitely not in a state to consent to anything but a good night’s sleep.

Thor swayed when he walked, tugging Ally with him wherever he leaned to, seemingly not even noticing the woman desperately clinging to his arm. She couldn’t handle the thought of telling the Avengers she’d lost a shitfaced Thor in New York City.

“Let’s get us an Uber.” After a moment of walking and failing to hold onto a Thor who was doing his best impression of a snake slithering, she sat him down on an extended side of a house. The impromptu bench barely held Thor who couldn’t even sit straight.

“You’re… _Uber_ beautiful! The boy of spiders taught me that word.” Thor proudly exclaimed in-between hiccups.

Ally giggled at his drunken antics, paying them no mind, and continued giggling all through the car ride whilst Thor alternated between hiccups and waxing silly poetic about the color of her eyes, the fairness of her skin, the magnificent bosom - ok, that one got him a slap on the thigh and an eyeroll.

Whatever he was drinking, it was _potent_ , as his condition got only worse upon arriving to the elevator where Ally had to all but stuff the man twice as big as her into it whilst he used her and the wall as a prop to lean on.

His room was nice. The bedroom itself had a baroque-ish design to it, probably something similar to Asgardian palace, Ally took a guess. Light beige tapestries with golden embroidery, wooden tables and a four poster, absolutely enormous bed with a golden opaque marquee hanging over it.

The blonde flopped onto his bed ungracefully, belly up. Being the caring person that she was, Ally removed his shoes and socks and, after some deliberating, took out the leather belt with an iron buckle that was larger than her hand - it couldn’t be possible to comfortably sleep whilst there was a steel brick over your crotch, now could it?

With a yelp, Ally found herself next to Thor, splayed on her back, pillows resting comfortably under her head. Eyes still closed, the blonde Asgardian rolled over onto his side, putting his head on her, using her whole stomach and chest as his pillow. Broad, warm arms encircled her hips, keeping Ally from leaving the drunken cuddle.

“Thor?”

“Comfortable. Stay.” He slurred, not minding the roughness of her jeans against his cheek one bit.

With a sigh, Ally squirmed to find a cozy enough spot under the large, muscular man. She’d be lying to herself if she said his touch was unwelcome. It didn’t take much effort to doze off, content and safe in Thor’s bulky arms.

“You are a wonderful Midgardian, Ally. Truly, the lot of us are lucky to be permitted to enjoy your company.” His somber words forced Ally out of her quick slumber. “We cherish you, little one. We love you. _I_ love you.” He seemed almost sober now, speech clear and serious.

“Good night Thor,” the woman laughed nervously, unsure. His words, they felt different somehow, holding more meaning than their usual playful banter.

Soft, slow snoring was her only reply.

* * *

Ally was a smart woman. Her big brain time was, in fact, so big, that she scurried to Loki first thing in the morning on April fool’s day - the safest place from the king of tricks was to be plotting with the Trickster himself.

“So, there’s this one thing I’ve always wanted to try…”

That peaked his curiosity. He was paying attention to her now, sitting across the table with that smirk that screamed “buyer beware!”.

It didn’t take long for Ally to rely her plan. Not only it was nefarious and evil, it was also probably the best way to keep Loki occupied enough to not cause any _real_ trouble on what was technically _his_ glory day.

It was really quite simple: utilising his magic, Loki moved all the furniture in the common rooms about three to five inches to one side. And it didn’t take long for the first victim of the prank to shout in outrage.

As soon as Jarvis alerted Ally and and Loki that Clint was coming to crash on the living room couch after a grueling sparring session with Natasha, the raven-haired man teleported them both to the other side of the couch, the pranksters both sitting there, looking innocent with Loki’s nose being buried deep in his book and Ally tapping away on her tablet.

She truly struggled to keep the smirk at bay. Loki’s mouth twitched now and then and they had to avoid looking at each other in fear of raising suspicion at the downright plotting look.

“Lokes, Ally…” Barton was panting as he exited the elevator, throwing himself ungracefully on the couch… And missing by a moment, tumbling ass over heels towards the ground with a confused and surprised exclamation: “FUCK!”

“You okay there, buddy?” Ally manged her best to sound convincingly worried. Loki just raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Clint huffed in irritation, starfishing right where he landed on the carpeted floor.

Ally and Loki shared a knowing grin.

As the day went on, all of their teammates fell victim to their antics. Tony missed a table and spilled his coffee all over the cream-colored living room rug, Bucky sat down on the cactus plant instead of a chair, Steve’s frying pan full of bacon and potatoes landed in the sink instead of being on the stove and Natasha took out her shurikens from under the couch instead of a knife when she wanted to peel an orange during an episode of Big Bang Theory (note: she peeled the fruit with the weapon, looking absolutely terrifying. Ally saw Loki trying to inconspicuously cross his legs.)

Tony started yelling when Mjolnir flew in through the window, breaking it. A neighbouring cell of glass was open for exactly that purpose - they always left it open since Tony’s bitching about Mjolnir smashing through walls and windows had reached drama queen levels even months ago. Measly buildings were no match for Thor’s mighty weapon.

Thor was like a confused puppy when Steve made him mop up the broken glass, throwing angry and puzzled glances at the window and then at Loki.

By the evening, Bruce was the only Avenger left. He didn’t show up for lunch and for dinner, being holed up in the lab, working like a madman on one of his projects. It was Ally’s idea to bring him dinner leftovers, she never ceased to scold the two scientists for forgetting to care about themselves.

Loki thought it was a good idea to annoy the Hulk’s host by moving his sampling station five inches to the left. Absentmindedly chewing on a chicken leg, Bruce picked up a vial of something green - and dunked it right into a vial of clear liquid that was standing on a burner, a ways from the rest of the chemicals.

It was a truly glorious explosion. Loki was careful enough to summon an invisible shield of magic over himself and Ally when the mixture started making suspicious gurgling noises; Bruce wasn’t so quick and managed to only turn his back to the thing before it exploded, rapidly filling the room with thick, opaque smoke.

A moment later, there was a ROAR.

“Oh, shit!” Loki quickly turned tail, running, had grabbed Ally by the hand, all but pulling her behind himself. She couldn’t resist much and her legs were no match for the tall Asgardian’s long strides.

Turning a corner and determining the coast was clear of any free-roaming Hulks, Ally abruptly stopped to slide down the wall, panting in exhaustion. Loki landed next to her in a heap.

Openly laughing, the trickster’s satisfied cackling filled up the hallway as he held onto his stomach, jerking from the force of his mirth. “Lady Allison, how I love you so!” Loki’s baritone was considerably higher in pitch than usual, he went and got himself short of breath over the mischief that he caused in the lab.

Was it the distant raging of the Hulk, was it the undignified tone of Loki’s voice or simply the gas that had flooded the lab, Ally didn’t know. All she could do was laugh hysterically, replaying all the miserable failures of the whole team during the April fool’s day.

* * *

“You want me to do WHAT?!” Ally’s shrill voice made everybody wince. She couldn’t see it, though - one hand held up the phone to her ear whilst the other was hastily typing away on the keyboard in front of her.

“Calm down, Ally. The evil robots are on the other side of Harlem. You would need to go upstairs, Jarvis will let you in the lab, you’re going to grab the red and blue backpack-looking thing and bring it to Peter. _In Brooklyn_. Harlem’s the opposite way of Brooklyn.” Tony’s voice was even despite the sounds of struggle that infiltrated the mic of his suit.

“We really need Spider-Man on this one, Ally.” Steve’s pleading do-it-for-your-homeland voice broke the nervous silence that followed Tony’s speech. As far as Ally was concerned, letting Steve do this to her was cheating.

They specifically talked - she was not to be physically involved in the world saving business. Ally was in no shape, physical or mental, to take on that much stress and extertion, thank you very much.

And now Peter had stayed over last night and left his suit in Tony’s lab for a small upgrade. The engineer worked on it all night, knowing that Peter carries the damn thing to school with him every day; he worked to no avail - the boy overslept and dashed out of the tower without even having breakfast in hopes of avoiding being tardy, leaving the bundle of nanofiber in Tony’s lab.

Dr. Doom picked the worst day to deploy a nasty batch of doom-bots on East Harlem. This time, the robots were rigged to explode when a strong enough force came into contact with them, therefore nullifying any kind of instant destruction of the pesky things - calling a code green was out of the question, leaving Tony and Thor to fry the drones with electricity, short-circuiting their systems, Loki to magically freeze the bots in place and Barton to _carefully_ shoot stun-gun arrows.

The radius of an individual robot’s explosion was wide enough to kill any civilian that didn’t evacuate in time - which was about half the neighborhood. New York was a densely populated place, and despite the team’s efforts, there were still plenty of people hiding inside the buildings. A team consisting of Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Wanda moved in zig-zags across East Harlem, doing their best to herd the remaining bystanders into safer places but for each of them, there were a good fifty doom-bots prowling the streets, being all explodey.

As proven many times before, doom-bots couldn’t do anything at all against a cocoon of Peter’s spider web. The ability to swing around the city, tagging and bagging the bad guys was invaluable in that particular situation.

Weighing all the pros and cons, Ally’s selflessness won against her self-preservation. Her mind inadvertently drifting to all the innocent people that could be saved and protected, her voice nonetheless wavered when she answered: “OK. I’ll do it. Do you have a fast bike, Tony?”

A plan formulated inside her head. Traffic was crazy all over the city and she couldn’t waste precious minutes sitting in a traffic jam. Luckily, she was a motorcycle enthusiast and knew how to ride one, an advantage of speed and maneuverability in the congestion of the cars she had already seen from her office window.

“Yes, keys are in the ignition. Grab a comm, too, it’s in my lab, in the “Iron Man” mug.” With that, Tony cut off the call, leaving Ally to gather her wits and prepare herself for the fastest, most illegal bike ride of her life. She was _so_ forwarding all the speeding tickets to Tony’s checking account.

Luckily, Ally managed to reach Peter’s school without a single police officer in sight. All of the force was thrown back towards East Harlem and surrounding neighborhoods to help people evacuate and maintain a semblance of order amongst the panicked, running New Yorkers; strange as it was, most of them still haven’t gotten used to random creatures attacking their city to challenge it’s resident superheroes. For Allison, the surprise stopped the second time aliens invaded the city. She simply found it pointless to panic about something that was the new normal.

“Hello, I’m here to see Parker, Peter Parker.” Smiling politely, she approached the administrator.

The lady didn’t bother lifting her eyes from the computer screen on which a live news report was playing, shaky camera showing the carnage in Harlem. “Are you a parent or a legal guardian?”

“No, I’m here to give Peter his gym clothes he forgot at his friends’ house.” Ally noticed Thor’s lightning striking several doom-bots and quietly cheered to herself.

“Sorry ma’am, it’s against the school policy to let strangers have access to our pupils.” The lady replied in a bored tone.

Ally sputtered, taken aback. “I’m-I’m not a stranger, Peter knows me. Just ask for him and we’ll both continue with our day!” She hastily pulled out her phone to text Peter about the mishap, hoping for a quick solution.

“Sorry ma’am,” the front desk lady finally lifted her face, looking very pointedly at the guard next to the entrance.

Ally could take a hint. Without a word, she turned and left, making sure to pass the surveillance camera on top of of the gates. Looking around, she jumped behind the corner of the building.

“I’m behind the corner. Can u get to a room that’s next to entrance door somewhere??” She texted Peter, anxiously waiting for his reply.

“Seventh window, first floor, girls lavatory.” Came the reply.

Feeling like a character in a spy comedy movie, Ally moved in a slow half-crouched position under the school windows. One, two… Five, six, seven - she arrived to the correct place, all but sticking to the wall in hopes of coming and going unnoticed.

The building opposite the school was full of offices, Ally saw desks and people behind said desks. With today’s attack playing on every screen in New York, people were bound to overreact and call the police about a strange woman sneaking around a school building with a suspicious-looking bundle. Getting arrested under “school bomber” suspicion wasn’t in Ally’s plans for the day.

“2min. Get ready.”

The window above her opened with a soft creak, Peter’s head sticking out. His face was red, he was twitching: it was obvious his Spidey senses were driving him mad whilst he was forced to sit in school, pretending to be studying instead of planning a break-out and a mad dash towards the Avengers tower.

“Gosh, Ally, I-I-I am terribly sorry, you had to, um, sorry to bother you, tell Tony I’ll do better next time please.” The teen stammered, extending his hands to catch the backpack.

Ally nodded, preparing to throw it.

“I really love you, Ally, gosh!” He exclaimed, bouncing on his feet.

Taking a step back, Ally put all her strength into the mighty swing, flinging the bundle towards Peter, screaming “YEET!”. Almost lost her balance there, barely standing on her feet. “Be careful, kid.” And turned tail, breaking into a sprint to leave the school’s territory as soon as she could, hoping nobody had noticed the strange interaction between her and Parker.

Two hours later, the sound of an incoming text message let Ally briefly pause her bad habit of biting nails when she was stressed: “casualty count: doom-bots: 821, avengers: 0, civilians: 0”. It was from Clint’s number.

“You did great, Ally. Thank you. 🇺🇲” Ah, Steve. _Dork._

* * *

Summer rolled in with a heatwave of the century. Ally’s attire rapidly switched from hoodies and jeans to tees and khaki shorts. Ever thankful that Tony was a great boss and very relaxed about dress code, it was nonetheless, a torture to sit for eight hours a day behind a glass wall that made up the wall behind Ally’s desk. The view was indescribably beautiful with the tower overlooking a large part of New York City, the sunsets being one of the things Ally enjoyed on the daily earlier in the year.

At the peak of July, the mid-day sun shining right on her back as she worked wasn’t nearly as enjoyable. Plexiglass heated up quickly and no air conditioning helped to shield the IT guru from direct sunrays burning her back and head, starting at about 1 o’clock and keeping her sweating like a pig until five in the afternoon.

Weather forecasts promised the heatwave would last only another ten days, tops, so Ally did what any sensible person would do: panting and sweaty, she took out her vacation days. The little apartment she rented had only one window and it overlooked another seven-story condo building, providing perfect shade as Ally herself lived only on the third floor.

Tossing her dirty pair of shorts and stained shirt was the first thing Ally did setting foot into her cool, dark apartment. The twilight of the single-bed, single-bath studio did a great favor to relax her strained eyes.

A nap was the second best thing in a hundred degree weather, preceded only by a cold shower. Ally passed out almost immediately, not bothering to unpack her purse or even put on clothes beyond a pair of panties. The amount of underboob sweat she had to deal with in the past few weeks meant the tender skin under the breasts was rubbed nearly raw from the underwires of her bra. _Fuck it…_

She woke up in the early hours of the morning. Heat always exhausted her. In moments like these, she missed the cool summers of her home state.

First day of her impromptu vacay was spent alternating between lounging in the couch, eating messy take-out and doing some long-overdue cleaning. Ally battled with fatigue, popping into the shower to cool off every few hours.

With the TV being on in the background, the woman completely forgot about her cell phone, which started buzzing incessantly by the end of day two. She used her PC to order more food the next morning, discovering it to be dead. _Strange, it had a full charge and the data was off. Gotta buy a new one soon, it probably overheated, too._

Another cold shower and a nap. Groggy and disoriented, she woke up to the buzzer going crazy. Someone was banging on her door, a female voice calling her name.

Ally pulled on the nearest pair of pyjama shorts and an old tee, swinging the door open angrily.

“What? Who are you? I’m not wearing glasses.” Ally truly couldn’t see much more but a black and orange blob, vaguely human-shaped.

“You’re alright,” said the blob in Natasha’s voice, sounding relieved. The spy let herself into Ally’s apartment without as much as invitation, hastily whispering into her phone.

“Natasha, what’s going on?” Hands on her hips, Ally was still freshly woken up and groggy. She had fetched her glasses with Nat being occupied with her smartphone.

Natasha threw an arm over her face in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. “You didn’t pick up your phone. We thought something happened to you when it started going straight to voicemail. Tony said you had been active on your Twitter in the past few hours so we thought someone had broken into your apartment and was snooping.”

Ally immediately felt ashamed. By accidentally going full radio silence she’d made them think some bad guy was out for blood (or information) and had kidnapped her. The importance of her work seemed to evade Ally’s conscious thought sometimes: she was still considering herself a minor bug fixer and computer virus wrangler. With all the sensitive data she and her team handled, getting abducted would be an unacceptable security risk for the team.

“God, Natasha, I’m so sorry. I nearly boiled to death in the fish tank that is my office and took out my vacation time before I downright melted to death in there. Glass panes aren’t very good as an office environment in the middle of a scorching heat wave. I apologize.” Appropriately chastised, Ally attempted to explain herself.

The redhead agent immediately sat up straighter giving the other woman a once over and noticing her dishiveled stated and the flush of her cheeks. Ally was still battling the burning-up feeling and sleepiness, although the nausea had subsided after the amount of cold showers she had taken. “How do you feel?” Natasha asked, standing up to put a palm on Ally’s forehead, and not being surprised when she found it warmer than normal.

“You had a heatstroke,” Natasha more affirmed than asked.

Ally shrugged. “Might be. I’m feeling better now.” She replied nonchalantly, meaning it.

Nat growled, startling her. “What if you’d had fainted and hit your head in something?” Seeing no reaction, Natasha tried to appeal to Ally’s sense of logic. “Stark has paid sick days, you know.” That way, they would have at least known the IT guru was out of business. Bruce could’ve made her get a checkup in the medical wing.

“I’m fine, Tash. Didn’t realize you’d get so worried. Again, I’m sorry.” Doing her best to placate the upset spy, Ally awkwardly patted her on the shoulder. Neither of them were known for being spontaneously tactile.

A brief look of indecisive anxiety ghosted over Natasha preceding the careful embrace Ally found herself in. Surprised, she didn’t make to pull away and was surrounded in the smell of iron and expensive perfume, the smell of Natasha. Ally allowed the spy to shyly rest the tuft of short orange on her shoulder.

“Never do this again. We love you too much to lose track of you.” Natasha spoke in a whisper. Ally wasn’t sure if she’d heard all of it correctly, she wasn’t sure of the real meaning behind those words either.

“I’m sorry,” Ally whispered back, voice full of sorrow and remorse.

The IT guru wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. She cared for the team and was happy to know the sentiment was returned.

* * *

“Hey, Bruce. I’m finished with Tony. Anything you need my help with?” Ally’s head inquisitively popped around the corner of Banner’s lab.

The scientist chuckled at the woman’s hyperactive antics. It was late in the evening and she’d been in Tony’s lab since noon, undoubtedly getting over-caffeinated together with the engineer. Those two could chug coffee by the gallon despite Steve’s regular lectures on the importance of drinking actual _water_. It was a quest of science at this point, to find out how much coffee could Tony drink until his nervous system simply shorted out.

Carefully considering Ally’s question, Bruce allowed himself to be distracted from his current project. Scooting his chair away from the desk, he languidly stretched his arms, feeling his back and shoulders pop in several places. How long had he been sitting, five, six hours?.. Hunched over a tablet and several folders worth of paperwork.

Bruce’s whole body was tense and cramped from the uncomfortable position, his back suffering the most. He wasn’t sure if he could stand up straight without wincing in pain. It didn’t help that the Other Guy was unhappy with Bruce’s discomfort, showing a little more presence in his mind that he was necessarily comfortable with on a day to day basis.

“Nope, unless you mean a backrub…” The scientist didn’t mean for it to slip out like that, but he was in a state of discomfort (and a perpetual state of stress).

With a smile, Ally was suddenly right there next to him, staring upside down as he attempted to work out the knicks in his neck. “I’m actually really, really good with those. Or so I’ve been told.” She chuckled. “Tony has a cot on his lab and some lotion, follow me, doc?”

Bruce couldn’t help it, he blushed. The thought of her touching him so intimately brought up feelings he didn’t dare to admit; the promise of pain relief and relaxation allured him to stand up, wincing as he did so. “I have a cot here too and some essential oils.” The scientist awkwardly shuffled over to a single-person bed that was hidden behind a plastic divide, Ally hot on his heels.

“Mind moving that a ways from the wall for me?” The IT specialist said, gesturing to the cot. “And where are those oils?”

Successfully completed all preparations, trying in vain not to stare as Bruce shed his lab coat and the button-up he wore underneath, Ally set to warming the oil between her palms. She chose a blend of camomile and lavender, figuring it would help the man simmer down a bit. Even upon the first glance he looked wound up and stiff.

No wonder, with these crazy hours spent in the lab. Her own muscles ached from being bent over Tony’s desk and staring at his computer with little respite.

Exhaling noisily, Ally set up to warm up Bruce’s back, stroking the broad, muscular expanse with slow, wide motions, taking note of how he seemed to seep into the thin mattress when her palms traveled over his shoulders and the place just above his hips. Banner was in great shape despite being an absolute lab rat.

Being a desk worker had it’s perks when it came to giving massages. Ally knew all the sore, tight spots from first-hand experience.

Moving onto his shoulders, the woman took her sweet time with Bruce’s trapezium - it was as hard as a rock, knotted and wound. Small embarrassed gasps left Bruce’s lips amid the massage: Ally was quite good at seeking out the most painful spots and stuck around patiently, rubbing them into non-existentance with gentle pressure.

His upper arms, all around the shoulders blades, the middle of his back - Bruce hadn’t realized that was cramped, too, until one moment he physically felt the strain remove itself, making space for his lungs to expand. It became easier to draw a deep breath.

Content little noises filled up the room; the scientist abandoned his shyness in favor of the tranquility that overtook him with every minute, more and more, until all he could feel was the gentle touch of Ally’s hot palms. The chemical smell of the lab faded, giving way to a comforting aroma of the oil.

The touch grew firm as Ally put her weight into bearing down on the dimples above Bruce’s buttcheeks, keeping the pressure until there was a loud pop. “Fuck!” He moaned, immediately feeling the relief of the joints being back in their place.

Ally chuckled, helping him into his side, cracking both sides of his spine alike a chiropractor, softly smiling back at Bruce. The scientist had a dopey aspect about him, eyes glossed over, the ever-present crease between his eyebrows suddenly gone. There was not a spark of green in his eye. The soft tuft of curls on his head disheveled more than usual. Adorable.

“There, you’re all set.” She patted his back one last time, drawing a soft fleece blanket over his half-naked form. His lab was chillier than a massage parlour and Ally didn’t want him to get cold, undoing an hour’s worth of her work.

“I can’t think of how to express how grateful I am.” Bruce’s smile was open and genuine if a little bit bashful. “I love you.” He groaned, rolling over fully onto his back.

“You can express your gratitude by not overworking yourself, Bruce.” Ally gently chastised the man; he had the sense to look guilty. “And the whole world saving thing, you do that, too. Save it, I mean.” The woman laughed together with him, shooting imaginary fingers guns at invisible bad guys.

Banner fell asleep before the door had closed behind the retreating back of the woman who unknowingly offered him the intimacy he was so afraid to seek out.

* * *

Showing up on Tony’s arm at galas was Ally’s new normal. Wearing designer clothes only once was the new normal. Lounging around in sweatpants, stuffing her face with pizza - together with the Avengers, that also was normal now. Loki’s magic was not normal but Ally got used to it quickly, especially when she was too lazy get up to fetch something. The God almost didn’t grumble at Ally’s requests of procuring water bottles, coffee mugs and laptops.

Ally couldn’t remember when was the last time she went out with friends, like a normal person. Sitting in a bar, watching football, drinking cheap beer… It all seemed distant, like her college days.

And don’t even mention dating. It was inevitable Ally’s standards soared after being around superhumans and alien royalty. Generic human men mostly seemed bland and somewhat rude, the leering, the condescending comments about her work which was her _passion_. Suddenly the prospect of being the weird cat lady was more appealing than it was a couple of years before.

On less formal events all the Avengers tended to pair up, SteveBucky, as Ally’d started calling the supersoldier duo in her head after finding out about their century-long romance; Loki and Thor - they almost always bickered but their whole interaction seemed to be so smooth, almost as if rehearsed. Wanda tended to stick with Peter if he was present, or with Clint and Natasha if the party was more public and the little spider didn’t want to risk public exposure. Bruce and Tony tended to talk science even outside of labs and dress shirts and martinis didn’t stop them from that.

It wasn’t that Ally felt misplaced among them. With all her life spent in the safety behind a computer screen, she stayed true to her habits and blended into the background. One moment she was quietly nodding to Tony’s science babble and raptly listening of Thor’s stories from Asgard the next. Curiosity was a vice she indulged in often.

“Allison? Is that really you?”

The IT guru’s back went rigid. Years and years and she still recognized that voice anywhere. She’d spent many months in therapy, trying to forget and move on what the owner of the voice did to her.

The story wasn’t of any shock value, Ally didn’t feel special and she certainly didn’t feel like her therapist told her she was: a domestic violence survivor. Statistics said a woman is likely to have at least two abusive romantic partners in her life. She wasn’t _special_.

And it’s not like he just beat her up. Not physically, at least. Three years of her life were tinted by a fog: _disassociation is a common response to complex emotional trauma_ , her therapist’s soft voice rang in the desert that suddenly built itself in her mind. A hot anger flashed through Ally at the fact his voice still made her feel a way. Made her weak.

“Leave me alone, Brandon. Save the oxygen.” She replied, braver, much braver than she felt.

The flurry of displeasure and disbelief graced the face of the tall man; Ally couldn’t have noticed it, taking her time to turn around and face him.

“I was just being civil. You should, too.” Brandon replied, fake grin on his face.

Ally knew the difference. She knew he was furious. It didn’t surprise her to see he hasn’t changed one bit, still unable to deal when people acted differently from his expectations. She also knew that getting past him and leaving wouldn’t be possible, he was standing so close, and he was still a foot taller and-

Her palm that hung limply by her side, she dug her nails into it, grounding. Pain is good. Pain brings me back to reality. “I don’t enjoy and I don’t want your company. Please, leave me be.”

Being sickeningly polite was the only way to prevent him from having a rage. No, not prevent - minimize the chance.

“I’ve done some work on myself. I went to therapy after you broke up with me.” Crocodile tears was his specialty. That’s why not a single soul believed her: it’s like it was impossible for a tall, chubby, soft man to have a temper. Even now, his voice was full of sorrow; fake too, she knew. She knew too well.

“Good for you.” Ally couldn’t resist her snark. It was a part of her, as much as her work (he’d hated it, mocking female programmers and female drivers and-), as much as her tomboyish look (that’s why he cheated, he was wanted a woman, not a dude with a vagina-).

“Don’t be like that, Ally. I’m trying to make amends here.”

A laugh escaped her, slightly hysterical. She couldn’t help it if she tried. “What makes you think _I_ want to, Brad?”

The man frowned, agitated. “As usual, you’re still making it all about you. My therapist said that, you know. She understood why I had to find positivity elsewhere.”

Ally just stared, mouth agape. Not even five minutes in and he already was insulting her, involving other people and just making assumptions. Blow after blow, to make sure she couldn’t get up. Brandon fought dirty, without remorse. “I’m done here,” she said, effectively putting on a lid over the feelings of hurt and indignation threatening to surface. It was pointless anyway, with all the projecting he was doing - Ally remembered all too well, the moments she felt vulnerable and he’d beat it out of her.

That power wasn’t something she was going to give him, again. Her drink forgotten at the bar, Ally made a mad dash under his arm to find more pleasant company. Thor and Tony were only a few feet away-

“What is wrong with you? Are you a savage with no manners?!” She felt his arm wrap around her wrist before the repulsive touch of his skin invaded her senses; nauseous and disoriented, Ally pulled, pulled harder.

“Let me go right now!” It came out a little more louder, a little more distraught than she’d wished. A scarlet blush spread over her face at the possibility of causing a scene, social anxiety kicking into high gear.

“Stop acting like a bitch!” He answered; quietly, though. Brandon was all about public appearances.

“I firmly suggest you unhand the lady this instant.” Loki, her God and her saviour, appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The intent in his calm baritone couldn’t be mistaken for anything but the most painful, grotesque murder method there was on Earth and beyond.

Luckily for Ally, Brandon also was a coward. The couple of times she called the police on him, it took thirty seconds for her ex to turn placid and apologetic. _It was all a misunderstanding, I’m on medication, she’s on her period._

Her wrist was immediately released. “We were just talking.”

Loki sneered. “Keep your tongue to yourself, mortal scum. I can hear your thoughts. Consider yourself lucky, I would rather not ruin my lady’s evening with your entrails on her gown.” The God’s voice was dripping with acrid venom.

“I just wanted to say, I still love you.” Brandon’s eyes looked like they were watering; to Ally, the show was only but laughter inducing. He couldn’t _love_.

“If only there was someone who loved you out there…” The anger, the sadness and sorrow bubbled to the surface. Safely encompassed in Loki’s powerful arms, Ally wanted to scream, she wanted to kick Brandon, to peel his skin off inch by inch for all the sleepless nights, the tears and the bruises…

She settled for verbal murder instead.

Loki’s proud smile was worth any backlash.

“Come, little one. Let us find better company.”

Later, back in the tower, after half a bottle of Tony’s limited edition scotch, Ally told them everything.

The woman didn’t remark on how Natasha suddenly disappeared with a laptop under her arm. She didn’t say anything when a thunderstorm clouded the deep blue sky. She saw only Loki’s satisfied face when Bucky broke his beer can at the God’s recount of the interaction between himself, Brad and Ally.

Karma’s a bitch when it’s delivered by the Black Widow.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this instead of porn and I blame my period. If y'all notice any typos I would appreciate them pointed out, I have a Spidey sense a few evaded me.
> 
> [Gucci sneakers, seriously, those are amazing.](https://imgur.com/a/gsTZ0Mf)
> 
> Vivienne Westwood makes the most amazing pantsuits. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the exact picture of the one I saw in a magazine, but trust me, it is a work of art.


End file.
